“We’re from the factory team”

Hunter Thompson commits suicide

The bats! AAAAAHHHH!

“…two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half-full of cocaine and a whole galaxy of multicolored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers… also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls…but the only thing that worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible than a man in the depths of an ether binge…”

Fuck.

Not a surprising end for this loon. No more reserving tee times under the name Raoul Duke. See ya, Lono, ya sick bastard. Kick Nixon in the head for us.

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